


If You're Interested...

by horselizard



Category: Red Dwarf
Genre: Ace!Rimmer, Alternate Dimension!Lister, Food Sex, Humor, M/M, Pain, mlm author
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-10
Updated: 2013-11-10
Packaged: 2018-01-01 01:37:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1038797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/horselizard/pseuds/horselizard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's something about Ace that makes people want to cover themselves in foodstuffs for him. Rimmer chooses a very bad time to find out what it's like the other way round.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You're Interested...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Saylee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saylee/gifts).



> Written for the Starbuggers Red Dwarf Kink Meme. Original prompt: “Rimmer, while off being Ace, meets a Lister who offers to be in his quarters, covered in Madras sauce. Rather than turn him down, _like he totally meant to do_ , Rimmer finds himself asking if he wouldn't rather it the other way around (Lister licking the sauce off Rimmer).”
> 
> Saylee, you are a terrible person, and I love you.

This was not the first time that Rimmer, during his adventures as Ace, had wondered exactly how he had ended up agreeing to go to bed with his grateful rescuee.

It was, however, the first time the rescuee in question had been a Dave Lister. And it was certainly the first time he had agreed to something quite so... unconventional.

This Lister, the one who was currently licking his way with such vocal gusto up his inner thigh, had a gaze which had bored into him with such intensity as he made his proposal that all Ace's usual gentle-brushoff lines had deserted him. This Lister, with his small halo of curls and smartly-groomed sideburns and deadly serious demeanour, had somehow made him an offer he couldn't refuse... but could only counter.

_“That's an awfully tempting proposition, old sport, but I'm not much of a one for Indian food. Perhaps we could come to a compromise...?”_

What an utterly smegging _stupid_ thing to say.

As he had lain across this Lister's unexpectedly crumb-less sheets, naked but for that godforsaken wig, and his partner had started reverently running his condiment-covered fingers over his broad, muscular chest, Rimmer had finally realised exactly _how much_ chilli was in Madras sauce.

It had just been a slight shock, to start with; an unexpected tingling along the paths Lister's hands were tracing. It was quite exciting, in fact. But as time passed, and Lister worked his way slowly down his body, the tingling gave way to stinging, and the stinging became what could only be described as burning.

Rimmer was too stunned by this turn of affairs to know quite what to do. This was meant to be pleasant. It had started _out_ as pleasant. Could he really say for certain that it had now, increment by increment, become painful? Could he really chicken out, make his excuses, now that he was already smeared with the stuff from nipples to navel? How could he explain that one – that the heroic, charismatic, unflappable Ace Rimmer was too much of a wimp to cope with a little spice in the bedroom?

He had to say it. He was _going_ to say it. And then Lister, who had been bent over his still-somehow-erect penis, slowed into awestruck inaction at the sight of it up close, had looked up at him with such hunger in his dark eyes that the words had died in his throat.

Things didn't often go right for Arnold J. Rimmer – not even when they could be said to be going right for Ace. And yet here he was, an inexplicably alluring version of Lister bearing down on his naked body, worshipping every inch of it with a desire more genuine, more electric, than anything he'd seen before from one of Ace's starstruck conquests. If the only downside was having his entire body slathered with painfully hot curry sauce, then on a relative scale, he really wasn't doing too badly. All he could do was shut his brimming eyes and whine, as Lister's madras-covered fist closed around his sensitive erection.

And now, what felt like an eternity later, he lay gripping the bedsheets, gritting his teeth, sweat streaming down his scarlet face and sticking to the fibres of his fringe. His skin, still sore and tingling, but no longer agonizingly burning, had been carefully (although not always patiently) licked clean. His astonishment at his partner's unwavering appetite for unadulterated chilli (yes, this was Lister, but there was a _lot_ of it) had soon been overtaken by astonishment at his own capacity for endurance. Every second the sauce lay sticky on his body was a mounting torture. But somehow, he could withstand it, knowing that that long, wet tongue and those soft, full lips would slowly but surely work their way along and bring him relief, lapping and sucking and gently nibbling at yet another square inch of mercifully soothed skin.

The only place Lister's talented tongue hadn't yet touched, the only part of his body that was still screaming with the stinging heat of the sauce, was his rock-hard erection. And although the pain was so intense that he wanted to cry, the bubbling anticipation that it provoked within him – the certainty that his ordeal would soon be over at last as that hot, eager mouth enveloped him – was enough to make his cock dribble furiously over his saliva-slick stomach.

Then finally, gloriously, Lister sucked him down, taking him in whole, and in a matter of seconds hologrammatic come was flooding the other man's mouth, washing over his tormented shaft and mingling with the thick red sauce. Rimmer howled with tearful gratitude as his partner licked and swallowed away the sticky mixture, the thrill of release compounded by the blessed relief from the sting of the chilli. He fell back against the pillows, red-faced and trembling, as Lister gently pulled away from his softening member.

“Holy smeg,” Lister breathed, “that was amazing. _You're_ amazing, man.”

Rimmer, glowing unexpectedly at his words, was inclined to agree. “You're something pretty special yourself, old chum,” he purred, congratulating himself on managing to keep up his Ace facade in spite of what he'd just gone through. He wasn't lying, either.

His eye fell on Lister's own sizeable erection, and even though he felt utterly wrung out, his cock twitched. “Oh, but where are my manners? Shouldn't have left you behind like that. Can't apologise enough, old thing.” He had learned a thing or two during his dimension-jumping escapades, and right now he felt like they both deserved to benefit from his experience. He spread his legs a little wider as he smoothly continued, “How about I make it up to you?”

Lister's eyes lit up as though he could hardly believe his luck, and renewed excitement coursed through Rimmer. The condiment-based kinkiness had been unexpectedly mindblowing, but what he needed now was to relax into something safely, unequivocally _pleasurable_.

“Oh, eh, man,” Lister suddenly exclaimed, his face falling as he cast his eyes desperately around the bed. “I haven't got any lube. Oh! But there's still another jar...”

Rimmer's face turned white, and a few seconds later, the empty night air bore witness to another first-time: a half-naked Ace Rimmer fleeing his companion's bed in terror, clutching his gold flight-suit, his veneer of unruffled charm having finally, spectacularly, slipped.


End file.
